The sky split. The gods returned, cloaked in fire and light, their voices thunder across ruin.
"This cannot continue," one boomed. "Shadow grows endless. It feeds from fire. The world cannot endure."
"Then end it," another whispered. "Take the witch. Strip her of flame. Return balance."
Aradia trembled, her fire guttering weakly. "Take me," she whispered.
Kael roared, his claws digging into earth, his green eyes blazing. "No! You will not touch her. You will not take her. She is mine. My mate. My Queen. If balance demands her death, then let balance burn!"
The gods faltered. For the first time, their fire dimmed.
But the Shadow laughed, endless and cruel. "Even gods fear me. Only she is strong enough to end me. And when she burns, she burns you all."
Aradia's tears spilled. The gods wanted her fire. The Shadow wanted her fire. All of them saw her as weapon.
But Kael—Kael saw her as love.